Death And Its Effects
by Rainosa
Summary: Dash is extremely interested in becoming Danny Phantom's sidekick, but when he goes to a ghost fight to help out, tragedy strikes, and Phantom is left picking up the pieces. Another Ectober oneshot.


Ectober 26th Horror Movies / Death

It was a miracle, really. It wasn't often Amity Park got miracles, but this one was so subtle, so taken for granted that many refused to even accept it was there. Nonetheless, the anomaly continued for years; perhaps out of sheer luck, perhaps through the diligence of others. The unlikely phenomenon remained undisturbed for most of Danny Fenton's high school career, until one stray blast went slightly off course on a late Tuesday night, in the Amity Park football field in October.

Miraculously, no one had died.

Dash Baxter was getting freaking tired of all these ghost attacks. One minute he was settling into his English class, the next he was evacuating it to avoid getting crushed by rubble. Again. And just when he'd decided that he should start picking his grades up, too. The only upside was a regular visit from his hero Danny Phantom, who still showed up to every ghost attack, even though they were getting more and more frequent. All in all though, Dash just wished the ghosts would go away and give up already.

The class was redirected into a spare classroom for the rest of the period, and Dash dropped haughtily into his new seat, frustrated with the constantly changing classrooms. Fenturd was so getting a beating for this. It would be at least a week before the new classroom would be back up, another before the biology room across the school would be ready to use again. He was so sick and tired of it.

About halfway through the class, Fenton jabbed his hand into the air, waving it like a flag and asking if he could go to the bathroom again. Dash was sick of that, too. This was the second time in this period alone that the loser had suddenly decided that his bladder was really, really full. Couldn't the nerd just hold it like everyone else? He'd chalk it up to another beating on Fentonia's part.

The bell finally rang, and the class spilled out onto the campus to see yet another ghost hashing it out with Phantom, as violently as possible. Most of the students continued on their way, but Dash decided to stick around along with the other Phantom devotees and cheer the hero on. With a shock, he noticed that the Goth girl and the black kid who were Fenton's friends were there. They weren't cheering like the rest of them, and actually looked a bit concerned. For some reason, this piqued Dash's curiosity, and he shuffled through the crowd to stand beside the tech-geek one, Tucker.

"What are you guys doing here?" he asked loudly over the din of the gathering. The kid jumped, and remained tense as the jock continued to stare at him.

"W-What do you mean? We go to school here, y'know," Tucker stuttered nervously, trying to avoid getting pummeled.

"Not that. I mean, at this rally that sort of started up, where everyone cheers Danny Phantom on. You two don't seem as pumped up about it. So what are you doing here?" Dash questioned, still not satisfied with their answer so far.

"Oh," Tucker relaxed, apparently realizing that Dash just wasn't in a 'beat you up' mood right now, "Well, we're a bit worried for the guy. Phantom, I mean. Last time he fought this ghost he didn't come out looking too pretty, if you know what I mean, and we just get nervous, like, what if the guy died, and we were defenseless? What if he gets too hurt to ever fight again? Everytime he fights a ghost, he's putting his life on the line, and you never really know for sure that he's going to make it out. So...it makes me and Sam nervous sometimes."

Dash thought about that. He had never considered what would happen if Phantom wasn't there to protect them. After all the years of defending the town, he had just sort of taken it for granted, always trusting that the ghost would save them. What if he wasn't there anymore? The town would be overrun with ghosts, that's for sure. Most people would have fled the city; it was likely only the Fentons would stay, trying to control the sheer number of ghosts flooding into the realm. The city would be in complete chaos, and... whoah. People could have died. How was no one dead yet?

A large roar of applause broke his train of thought, and he looked up to see that Phantom had taken down the ghost, and was now flying off into the distance. Two sighs of relief echoed beside him, and suddenly, Dash realized that maybe he had been going about this the wrong way. Standing by and cheering Phantom on was absolutely no help. In fact, it made it harder for him to protect them. What he really needed was fighting help, kind of like a sidekick. No, sidekick sounded too wimpy; more like... partner. Yeah, that seemed like a good idea. Dash sped home. He needed to look through his mom's sewing supplies.

Dash knew this was a good idea the second he saw the fight on the news. As the announcer relayed the details, Dash snatched up his black hoodie and his brand new white mask, skipping out the door to greet the ghostly superhero, who was yet again fighting just outside Casper High. Oh yes, this was his best idea yet. He, Dash Baxter, would become crime-fighting partners with the greatest superhero of all time, Danny Phantom. He could totally help out using his football skills and stuff! While Phantom distracted the ghost, he could run up and tackle him, just like in his games, and Phantom would finally realize how awesome Dash was!

The sound of ectoblasts ringing through the area brought Dash to a halt, and he spun around, realizing he was already at the building. Bright green light flashed over by the bleachers, and a muffled snappy one-liner echoed towards him from the football field. Perfect! It was even easier to tackle people when they were already on the football field. Dash rushed over, being sure to maintain a cover underneath the bleachers. He knew that the element of surprise was crucial, and he wasn't about to lose it just to get a good view. As stealthily as he could, Dash rose up and peaked out between the rows of seats.

He was definitely not ready for the warzone that met his eyes. The perfectly groomed field was shredded into mounds of dirt, bleeding out the edges like a wound in the earth. Like a blur, two glowing beings were moving almost as if in a dance, fists swinging and blocking, spinning as gracefully as a ballerina in the middle of the field, acting in perfect synchronization with the other as they ducked ansd dodged and spun. Small patches of grass all around them were littered with green ectoplasmic fire, performing as spotlights in what had once been the football field. The two fighters, still floating, were indistinguishable, one so seamlessly battling the other that you couldn't tell them apart. A flash of white hair here, a metallic arm there... from what Dash could see, it had to be Phantom and Skulker. He'd never seen them this riled up before. Hovering above, a buzzing news helicopter caught it all, careful not to descend close enough to be hit.

Without a doubt, the battle immediately threw all of Dash's sidekick plans out the window, and the basic flight instinct took its place. He scurried away as fast as he could, abandoning his 'element of surprise' tactic and just booking it out of there. His escape must have drawn the attention of the ghosts, because he heard a pause in the battle behind him before suddenly, cold, broad, metallic arms had him in a headlock, crushing his windpipe and making it difficult for him to breathe.

"Set him down, Skulker!" Phantom cried, the first words Dash had heard all night, "This is between you and me. There's no need to bring in innocent people."

Skulker laughed heartily, and a hunting knife extended from his robotic arm to threaten Dash's throat, "Foolish child! That's the point! Your ridiculous need to protect the innocent makes you vulnerable to attacks from absolutely any direction. I can grab anyone - ANY ONE - off the street, and you will still give yourself up to protect them! You can't protect everyone, whelp."

Phantom panted, exhaustion and frustration building, "You let him go RIGHT NOW Skulker! Or I will personally make sure that you don't see the outside of a Fenton Thermos for years!"

"Ah, so bold for one so small," Skulker taunted. Dash struggled a bit, and the hunting knife dipped forward to draw the tiniest bit of blood, spurring Phantom to growl threateningly.

"What do you want, Skulker?" the younger ghost rumbled dangerously, clearly on edge, "My pelt?"

The temperature dropped a few degrees as Skulker's eyes narrowed, "A complete surrender, ghost child. I'm going to throw some ghost cuffs to you, and you are going to put them on and come with me."

"Don't do it, Phantom!" Dash encouraged.

Phantom pursed his lips, and cautiously shifted into a vulnerable stance, "Deal, Skulker. Toss me the cuffs."

"No!" Dash protested, struggling violently, "Phantom, don't!"

Skulker grinned, and using his free arm, extracted a pair of ghost-power neutralizing hand cuffs , and carefully cast them to the ground a few feet away from Phantom, being as delicate as possible with the situation. Calmly, the ghost kid reached to pick them up, and quietly snapped them on his wrists in resignation before taking a step forward.

"Okay, I put on your stupid cuffs! Now let him go," Phantom negotiated.

"I don't think so, whelp," Skulker shook his head, "Get on your knees. I'm coming over to you."

Reluctantly, he complied, bending down in a position of complete surrender. The robotic ghost shuffled over, dragging Dash with him, until he towered over the young hero. Phantom glared at him, somehow still appearing dangerous, but finally, the broad, cold feeling left Dash's throat as he was released.

"There, whelp. I let him-"

Skulker was cut off when Phantom sprang up, wrapping his legs around the metal ghost's head and dragging him to the ground. Still dazed, Skulker was unable to resist as Phantom snatched the key and freed himself, immediately assuming an offensive stance and calling ectoplasmic fire to his fists. As fast as possible, Skulker stood, and tried to summon any weapon on him that still had ammo, which was apparently a measly few.

"Just give up already, Skulker," Phantom warned, floating higher in dominance, "I don't want this to get any messier than it already is. If you just get out of your armour, I promise I won't even put you in the Fenton Thermos."

"No!" the ghost cried, "I am Skulker, the Ghost Zone's greatest hunter! I refuse to surrender!"

"Your loss," Phantom accepted, preparing to fire an ectoblast.

"No!" Skulker wailed, and suddenly his strongest weapon was aimed at Dash, the energy already starting to leave the barrel.

Dash froze. His whole timestream slowed down, his vision narrowing to watch as a bright green glow built up at the back of the weapon. He couldn't die here. He could _not _die here. He wasn't ready for stuff like this, life-threatening stuff. He wasn't done. He wasn't finished. Everything he had done was...wrong. But all he could do in the end was watch as the glow of ectoplasm gathered and prepared to launch at him.

And then somehow, Phantom was there, grabbing the barrel of the gun and wrenching it towards the sky. Just in time, the blast flew harmlessly into the air, and Dash relaxed to a ridiculous level.

Until he heard the explosion.

Intstinct pulled his gaze up, but horror made it stay there. Green fire filled his vision, swirling and billowing like an explosion from an action movie. Debris flew to the ground, the remains of something metal still smoking and flaming. A seat wrent in two, the stuffing spilling out and burning. A camera, almost destroyed beyond recognition near the bleachers. Twisted metal littering the entire field, scorched into oblivion. A helicopter blade, sticking straight up in the geound.

Then Dash realized.

He fell to his knees, disbelief swelling and completely overtaking him. Those news reporters, they... he had just watched people die. Real people. People with lives and jobs and families; dead. The thought simply would not process, like a broken record, repeating over and over in an attempt to move on. How. What kind of person would...

The most agonizing wail he had ever heard split the air, ripping his horrified thoughts to shreds. He whipped his head around, clamping his hands over his ears, and spotted Phantom on his knees, facing the sky and just _screaming._ Glowing waves of ectoplasmic energy radiated from his vocal chords, stretching the boundary of what Dash knew to be verbally possible, the agony, regret and guilt almost overwhelming in the hero's voice. Dash recognized this power. He'd only seen it once before about a year ago, and it scared him. The Ghostly Wail could cause extreme destruction an devastation to whatever it was turned to. But this... he'd never seen it like this before. To express an emotion so powerful it physically manifested into energy was unimaginable. Feeling emotion that strong had to tear the ghost apart.

The sound faded as Phantom fell to his hands and knees, dissolving quite suddenly into sobs that wracked his body violently. Now Dash was thrown into even more confusion. He had never seen Phantom cry. Never seen any ghost cry for that matter. Hadn't even seen another boy cry before. The situation was completely outside his field of experience, and combined with the devastation surrounding him, he just sat, entirely unaware of what he should do.

Deep gasps of grief echoed, lonely in the evening air, each one shocking Dash with its intensity. Skulker seemed to have disappeared during the chaos; he was probably in the Fenton Thermos by now, too afraid to incur the wrath of the young ghost. Sirens wailed very distantly as the rest of Amity Park came to realize what had happened, and Dash shivered, suddenly noticing that the cold was creeping up on them. He was about to stand up when a bright ring of light appeared around Phantom's waist, and split to reveal the person he was least expecting.

Fenton. Danny Fenton. Sitting there, in the torn-up field, exactly where Phantom had been, and sobbing up a storm. Somehow, the shock didn't hit Dash as hard as he thought it would. But he knew, for some reason, that Fenton needed comfort, and there was no one around to give it to him. Except...

He didn't know why, but he found himself reaching out to put an arm around Fenton's shoulders. The kid was colder than he expected, but that didn't stop him from trying to calm Fenton down. The wailing slowly descended into a quiet whimpering, which gradually became soft whispers, too muffled for Dash to understand, but clearly still unimaginably important.

"This is my fault," Danny mumbled, just loud enough to reach the jock's ears.

"Are you kidding me?" Dash patronized, "Don't you dare turn this around on yourself. This was an accident, pure and simple. You couldn't have predicted any of this would have happened."

Fenton gasped deeply, almost guiltily, "But I was the one that knocked his gun out of the way, -"

"And Skulker was the one that pulled the trigger. That doesn't make it any different. He didn't mean to shoot at them, and you didn't mean for them to get hit," Dash assured.

Fenton sniffled, and jerked away from his grasp, "No, you don't understand, I could have saved them! It's my job to protect people, and I freaking SCREWED _UP! _THEY'RE _DEAD _AND IT'S MY FAULT!"

"Hey, _hey_!" Dash shouted, grabbing the smaller boy by his shoulders and shaking them vigorously, "It doesn't matter if they're dead! Because y'know what? You did your damnedest to save them, all the times before. It doesn't matter if they're dead because you fought for them, and that makes their death _mean_ something. Trust me, man, I have gone through this crap twice over, and blaming yourself is one fantastic way to dig yourself a grave. So don't you _dare _ say this is your fault, because this town still needs you! If you start blaming yourself, we're all as good as dead. Get a grip, man. We need you."

Sirens echoed ominously in the distance as Fenton stared Dash in the face, his eyes screaming with guilt and his face dirty with ash and tears. He looked hopeless; desolate to a degree Dash had only ever seen in the mirror before. Dash noticed that the kid had started leaning on him for support, almost completely relying on him. Fortunately, he was more than willing to provide help. And then...

There. A spark of hope, in the corner of his eye. Dash relaxed, recognizing the conclusion of his job. Stiffly he stood and offered a hand up.

"Come on," he encouraged, "Let's get out of here before the cops show up."

Danny grabbed his hand with a grip he hadn't expected, and gently pulled himself onto two legs. It wasn't until they were leaving school grounds that the ghost boy spoke up again.

"What did you mean when you said you'd been through this before?" he inquired.

Dash shrugged, "Well, I don't tell many people this, but..."

"I used to have a little sister."


End file.
